Hard-Edged
by Pyrasaur
Summary: Once they're on tentatively friendly terms, Ralph asks Calhoun if the feeling of bug claws will ever go away.


Some of the guys at Bad-Anon said it helped to have a hobby. Something that didn't put any pressure on. An artsy pastime where you could go ahead and express yourself with music or colour or form. Ralph thought it was worth a shot, and he kept an eye out for somewhere new where he could vent a bit.

As it turned out, the old Tetris cabinet in the far corner of the arcade worked just fine. Once in a while, when something he couldn't name sat heavily on his back, he'd make a night of piling up blocks. They were nicer-looking than his bricks, and it was kinda relaxing to focus on something as uncomplicated as coloured patterns. He could just wreck the parts that didn't feel right.

One particular night, Ralph ran into Calhoun heading for the very same train. They stopped hard — like Game Central Station had invisible walls — and blinked at each other.

"Sarge? You play with the Tetris blocks, too?"

"What I do isn't a game of hopscotch on the playground, Wreck-It. This is a marksmanship drill." And — after one of her brief, skewering looks that still made Ralph want to back away — she folded her arms and admitted, "It's how I take a load off."

Okay, good to know that she relaxed sometimes. Ralph rubbed his neck. Today had been one of those days where he just felt fragmented all over; he'd been looking forward to a little Tetris time to sort his head out. "Well … Hey, maybe we could share? I never know where to put those squiggly-shaped blocks, so, heh, if you shot those ones I wouldn't miss 'em!"

She raised a brow. "Sniping your junk blocks?" And after a long second, she jerked her head decisively toward the train.

After everything that happened, Ralph figured there were worse people to watch his back with a gun. A two-player game it was.

Once in the big square Tetris field, Calhoun took some blocks from offscreen, made herself a tower with speed and precision, and climbed on top. She was nearly hidden up there — just her blonde head visible, plus her gun where she braced it on her knee. Sitting a good third of the way up the playing space — like some kind of hard mode — she called to Ralph, "Ready when you are."

Yeah, that seemed like Calhoun's style alright. Smiling a bit, Ralph hit the Start button on the wall. That catchy tune started up and the block flow began. After watching Calhoun take a few shots, and watching the blocks flickeringly fade in the air, Ralph got to work.

It sure was a pleasant change of pace to get all good blocks. None of those darn squiggly ones that didn't fit anywhere. Humming along with the music, holding blocks between his palms by their flat faces, Ralph made a wall that snaked in on itself, the colours changing in rainbow stripes. It was always nice to see structure taking shape under his hands, even if it wasn't supposed to _be_ anything.

"Whatcha building, there? A dollhouse?"

He turned to see Calhoun watching him sidelong from her perch.

"It's a … sort of an art installation," Ralph said.

"Useless tinsel. Understood."

He was willing to bet that was a smile he saw. "You're just yanking my chain, aren't you?"

"You got it." She fired two shots. "… Is it actually a dollhouse, though?"

"This," Ralph said, straightening and putting his nose in the air, "is a commentary on, uh. The way life is so unsure. Demonstrated by the fact that it's a big solid wall." He caught a line block right before it landed on his head — and a sharp point bit his palm, sharp like a claw _oh mod not again_ but this was a block, a harmless Tetris block's corner. "I-I. Just. Uh. Felt like making something. Instead of. Breaking something."

He was holding the block by its faces now but the feeling of piercing touch stayed, as present as the speed of his pulse in his own head — and the fact that Calhoun was looking right at him.

If she was thinking something sarcastic, she didn't say it. Calhoun just stared. A long, calculating stare, before she hummed and turned to the encroaching block flow.

Well, nuts. Someone had noticed his weird new malfunction. What now, Ralph thought, as he caught another block between both palms? He could knock off holding the blocks like this. The edges he could cope with, but those corners would put him back in that state where touching things kept bumping his panic up louder. He hadn't thought there could be a feeling worse than gnawing loneliness but something about the way pointed things dug into his skin, and the way that one memory ambushed him …

Ralph arranged a few more Tetris blocks, sliding them together flush. Every block had corners that practically screamed their presence. More blocks descended, points falling toward him. How had he ever found this relaxing?

Calhoun's laser gun zapped a steady beat; blocks flickered into nothing. Come to think of it, how did Calhoun relax by shooting stuff? After a long, scary day of shooting space bugs, anybody'd want some peace … right?

Shifting his weight from foot to foot, Ralph grew sure he was making a stupid — but necessary — decision.

"Sarge, can I ask you somethin'?"

"Fire when ready, Junkpile." She said it easily, focused on the aim and discharge of her gun. Talking to her hair might be easier than talking to her face, Ralph hoped.

"Do you soldier guys …" He waved a hand in the air. "Do you ever … remember the times you've fought stuff, and feel like you're still there?"

Silence. The laser fire stopped; blocks kept jerking closer.

"Yeah," Calhoun said slowly. "We remember every single time we've faced those filthy bugs. Think about it in our waking moments and in our nightmares, too. Why?"

She growled like she always did when she talked about cy-bugs. But something about it was oddly encouraging - maybe just the fact that she remembered, and knew they were scary enough to be in nightmares. Grabbing an L-block from the air and placing it in a pile, Ralph frowned a bit. "Does it ever go away?"

Grinding echoed through the room, as the music stopped and the blocks froze overhead. Calhoun sat on the edge of her tower, having kicked the Pause button.

"Are you talking about the live game you played, interfering with the First Person Shooter?" She skewered him with a hard gaze. "Was it the sound of the swarms that got to ya?"

"N-No! Well, don't get me wrong, that was pants-messingly scary, too. But I'm talking about King Candy. When he became a cy-bug, and … and he was the biggest character I've ever seen ..."

Ralph hadn't been a big guy in those moments. He was suddenly tiny, surrounded by powerful mass and held with vicegrip claws. Hot breath lisping in his ear that Vanellope was doomed and those points on his scalp, sharp clawpoints all over. It made him want to wreck something even now, but he wasn't sure he had the strength, wasn't sure he wouldn't freeze again.

He looked up and found Calhoun searching him with wide blue eyes, her mouth an unreadable line.

"I had my hands full at the time," she said, "tryin' to cover Fix-It and the kid … Can't say I saw what happened up there. You had yourself an actual boss fight, huh?"

Ralph exhaled — not a laugh, really, but it almost sounded like one. "I guess so. We don't have anything like that over in Fix-It Felix, Jr.. He just came outta nowhere, this big …big … " Ralph couldn't think of any other way to describe it.

"Bigger than you."

"Yeah."

"That doesn't happen much, huh?"

"Well, no!" It kind of felt like they were on to something. Ralph looked at the cube block in his hands, the most familiar shape he knew, then put it on top of the pile. "And he was holding me with his claws and … saying things. I really thought that was going to be the end of Vanellope, that there was nothing I could do. I just kinda … keep remembering it."

She scowled. Not aimed at Ralph, this time, but at whatever she was thinking about, whatever she saw when she thought about cy-bugs. Looking away at the blank walls, she finally answered:

"Those memories you can't shake? That helpless feeling right in the pit of your gut? That's called shell shock, Wreck-It. It's the two-ton gorilla every soldier's gotta go a few rounds with, and that beast doesn't give a hot log whether you signed up for the fight or not."

"Shell shock … Is that some Hero's Duty thing?"

"We know it off by heart in Hero's Duty. But I think anybody who gets in over their head can get a taste of it. Those damn bugs …" Calhoun paused; her mouth twitched and she met Ralph's eyes, fierce. "If you try to bottle it up, it's only a matter of time before you can't hold it in anymore and you crack. Promise me you'll let it out, Ralph. Don't you let a memory get the best of you, soldier."

It suddenly felt like Ralph had stuck his tongue into an electric current. Hadn't Felix had said something about picking the wrong few words and setting off gut-deep screaming in her? Was that the weird vibe about Calhoun, the sense she was wound way too tight?

"Uh. Yes, ma'am! Sir."

The staring didn't stop. Ralph rubbed his neck.

"Is it ma'am or sir? I honestly have no idea. Not really much of an army guy."

Finally, the tension snapped as she smirked at Ralph's ignorance. "Ma'am, technically. Don't make a habit of it."

"Okay." Ralph turned both hands upward. "Look, I didn't mean to dump this on ya, Sarge."

"It has to come out, sooner or later. Like a splinter. A bigger one than you thought." She shifted her gun in her lap, thinking again. She suddenly said, "I'm gonna propose to Felix."

It took a second to process. "Oh, you're. Uh. Congratulations?"

"Quit lookin' so gobsmacked, Wreck-it, we're still talkin' about the same thing. It's a … backstory thing in my game. Gettin' married. It's important enough that you gotta protect it from cy-bugs at all costs."

_The most tragic backstory_, Felix had said. Oh. This was making vague sense.

"So," Ralph ventured, "how're you gonna do it? Protect your … important stuff?"

With a warped, grim smile, Calhoun said, "With a whole bunch of guns. Full platoon of soldiers with laser-sight rifles oughta do it. I think that's gonna be the ticket — doing the same thing as last time but doing it smarter. That way you look that gorilla in the eye and say _bring it_. It doesn't go away, not completely, but can't _beat_ you if you refuse to stay down."

Honestly, Ralph had a shaky grasp of what a wedding involved, even without armed guys and more cy-bugs. But that one phrase — _it can't beat you if you refuse to stay down_ — now, that seemed like a precious coin he needed to hold onto. He was already doing that, sort of, every time he picked up a brick or a block and didn't let the corners jab him. Slowly, Ralph nodded.

"Okay … Well, let me know how the wedding works out, alright?"

"Don't worry. You're gonna be there."

It was still new, this glowing feeling of being invited somewhere and feeling … welcome. Ralph might have gaped a little; Calhoun didn't notice. She stared at the wall, with some white-hot mix of emotions flickering at the corners of her mouth. And then it was gone, as she glanced to Ralph, wearing the usual head-lady-in-charge face. She hopped effortless to the ground, clicked her gun into its holster and slammed the Reset button with a casual fist. Behind Ralph, all the blocks flashed and were gone. But there'd be more.

"Doesn't look like we're getting any unwinding done in here," Calhoun drawled. "C'mon, Brickhouse. Cold ones are on me tonight."

"Heh! Okay. No argument here!" Ralph was sure now of one thing: they both deserved it.


End file.
